


Wounded

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Feels, M/M, Murder, Tags Contain Spoilers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 08:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Why did Handsome Jack have to kill his own husband?***SPOILER: He did not.***





	Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a small nagging idea that wouldn't leave my mind until I finally wrote it down.

Rhys wasn't sure who was this particular assassination attempt targeted at. He wasn't even sure it _was_ an assassination attempt. Maybe it was just a run-in with bandits. Typical, on this shit-hole of a planet.

Whatever the case, right now, all of the cars in their convoy are burning, bullets already flying in all directions. From his position on the ground, he notices the devilish smirk on Jack's face. Killing bandits, creating a small, local genocide, the CEO is in his element. Rhys is sure Jack would be _bored_ and grumpy at the end of the day if no bloodshed happened during their short trip to Pandora.

When the shock of the blow finally subsided, Rhys felt for his own weapon, strapped at his thigh, so he could join the fight. He gripped it firmly and stood up, aiming immediately at the nearest bandit in front of them.

But he didn't notice there were enemies _behind_ them, too.

A rain of tiny sharp pieces delved in and through his chest. And after them, the whole shotgun hit him. _Tediore shotgun_.

Rhys doesn't have enough time to mutter half of the _oh __fuck_ he wants to before the thing explodes and takes good half of both of his legs with it. Distinctively, he remembers wearing a shield, but it didn't come back online since he jumped out of the burning car, still recharging.

His body is pain. He would like to scream, but his lungs are torn to pieces, he can barely breath, gurgling blood with every exhale.

He doesn't notice the sound of gunshots fading off before Jack's face is looming over him. Jack is unharmed, and at least two of their yellow-clad soldiers are still alive, already heading to the nearest Catch-a-Ride for a new vehicle.

Rhys doesn't care about a fucking Catch-a-Ride, because he is fucking _dying!_ He gasps for breath, extending one shaking arm towards his husband, offhandedly noticing he has no fingers, because they were burned off by the explosion.

Jack looks... calm. Annoyed, maybe. The terror Rhys feels doesn't mirror in the CEO's face. And the younger man just doesn't _get it._ Why is he not _scared?_ Rhys is _dying_ and it _hurts_, hurts _so much!_ Why isn't he _doing_ anything?!

"Come on, pumpkin," Jack coos at him. "Come on. Let go."

Rhys focuses on the voice, the familiarity, safety. He takes in another painful breath.

"Rhys, you know you are connected to the New-U net any time you step foot on Pandora," Jack's voice is getting impatient. "The station is literally two hundred meters down there! _Let. Go._"

Tears stream down the younger man's face. He doesn't understand. Why is Jack not worried for him? He is _dying, in pain! Jack, do something! I love you! I need you!_

He can't scream – what is left of his lungs is too weak. He can only stare wide-eyed when Jack rises from the crouch, pulls out his revolver and aims at him.

"I will take you out to that favourite ice-cream place of yours for _dinner_, alright?" he says casually, as if this pardoned his actions.

And then he shoots him in the head.

The last thing that crosses Rhys' mind, before there _is no mind_, is that _at least_ Jack couldn't look him in the eyes while he did it. And then he is gone.

* * *

Jack almost sprints all the way to the platform, though he slows down when he sees his husband already sitting there, slouched over, hugging his knees.

"Hey there, kiddo!" he exclaims.

"Hi," Rhys mutters weakly. The CEO doesn't say anything, offering a hand.

"You shot me," Rhys blames when Jack helps him stand up.

"Well, you were holding up... _for your dear life_, heh. I had to. It was faster than patching you up, anyway." He chuckles, but doesn't look him in the eyes, and there is no amusement in his face. He hugs his husband close. "And I promised you ice-cream dinner, what else do you want?" That comes out harsher than intended, but it seems to pull the younger man out of his trance and he nods.

"Yeah, yeah, you are right. I'm alright. Let's go," he enters the new car before Jack can voice his doubts.

* * *

Later that day—or actually night_—_Rhys is sitting on the sofa in their living room. He is clutching his stomach that aches and rumbles after eating so much ice-cream. It's not the source of his sombre mood, though.

"Here." Jack's hand appears in his field of view and startles him. "For your stomach," Jack offers the two pills in his outstretched hand and a glass of water in the other.

Rhys stays rooted in place, just staring at him, contemplating. It takes for Jack to wiggle his eyebrows at him curiously to finally accept the pills that would calm his stomach. He pops them in his mouth silently and drinks the water.

They stay like that in silence—Jack looking at him with unreadable face, Rhys looking at the floor.

Finally, Jack takes the glass from him and seems to be heading back to kitchen to dispose of it. But when he is halfway there, he turns on his heels and comes sit next to his husband, placing the glass on the coffee table.

"You alright, cupcake?" he asks.

"Yeah, just... a little sick, 's all," Rhys brushes it off and clutches a pillow.

Jack sighs, long and exaggerated, but Rhys knows that the worry behind it is real. "You scared me down there, you know? It looked... terrible. And you looked... so scared. Let's _never_ do this again, okay?"

It is still strange to Rhys when the CEO of Hyperion gets this emotional, even after all these years. "Okay," he mutters. "Will you–"

"_Yes_."

The older man agrees, already knowing what will his husband ask for. "Of course, baby. Anything."

In silence—because Rhys is too exhausted to talk and Jack is still shocked, though he would never admit it and would strangle anyone who would claim that—they walk into their bedroom. They take a shower together, Jack pampering Rhys with love, and then they go to bed, cuddling incredibly close, as if Rhys' body were to disintegrate again, and Jack would have to go find him somewhere on Pandora if he let go now.

The bright side to this awful experience was that when Rhys woke up in the morning, Jack was still there, petting his back and watching him closely.

Normally, the CEO would wake up at 4 AM and head to work like the workaholic he is. But on days like this, when he couldn't push the raw emotion to the back of his head, he would stay, make sure Rhys is not alone when he wakes up.

Not noticing the younger man is awake he gently presses a kiss to his temple. Nosing the soft skin, he mutters: "I love you," something he doesn't dare to say often.

Rhys smiles wide, not caring about breaking the spell. "I love you too, Jack."

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments.


End file.
